


The Backseat

by galacticproportions



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Creative use of a safety harness, Established Relationship, Fear, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 11:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticproportions/pseuds/galacticproportions
Summary: Something something fancy flying something something safety harness something something competence kink something something blow jobs.





	The Backseat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts), [orchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchis/gifts).



> The above summary was my note to myself when starting to work on this story, and I really don't think it can be improved upon. Thanks to Gloss and Orchis for enjoying and encouraging.

When they collected the craft for the reconnaissance run, Finn's heart sank a little, not because of anything about it that he could see but because Poe got That Look. It was the There's Only One Man For This Mission Look, the Everyone Says It Can't Be Done Look, and to be fair Poe had it less and less these days. Maybe that was a sad thing; Finn wasn't sure.

Poe didn't seem sad now: the haggling was over, and he was chatting with the shipyard manager about their recent clutch of spawn. To the eye, the ship was a narrow, sharp-winged, space-pocked thing with satisfactory-looking firepower, which Finn did feel confident assessing. “Am I shooting those or are you?” he asked as Poe wrapped up the pleasantries and came to stand beside him.

“Me. Not much for you on this one, pal, sorry. Catch up on your reading.” Finn had a stack—metaphorical, since it was on the datapad, but stacklike in quantity and quality—of background material for their next assignment. “Matter of fact, the one thing that sucks about this otherwise beautiful piece of engineering is I don't get to sit with you. Passenger seats in the back.”

“Probably just as well. Wouldn't want to distract you.”

“I'll show you distracted.” He _is_ in a good mood, Finn thought before Poe closed with him and kissed him.

Finn had come to know and like the rhythm of the preflight checks, Poe all business, life-and-death distinctions but in familiar measure and within his power. He liked seeing Poe know his way around a ship, liked knowing that he was in good hands.

The passenger area, when he climbed into it, was small, two seats facing each other with a narrow way between them. And the seats themselves--

“I'd buckle in,” Poe said. “No grav drive, and they traded shock absorbers for maneuverability when they built this boat. Want a hand with it?”

“I got it,” Finn said, kissing him. “You get us airborne.”

Once Poe was through the cockpit hatch, Finn applied himself to the safety apparatus. It wasn't actually that complicated, but it was serious: a strap for each thigh as well as the crossways one across shoulders and chest and waist, and a headpiece that did give him some pause. A narrower strap crossed his forehead, and cushioned side braces narrowed his peripheral vision.

Finn breathed slowly and deeply, scanning his body from the toes up, which sometimes worked. This wasn't very much like a helmet at all, really. The pressures fell in different places. There was no data display. He couldn't smell his own breath or feel his own sweat.

Poe's voice came tinnily to his ears: “You okay back there? Should be a blue button by your hand, you can press it to talk to me.”

The button was bright blue, and big, but somehow it still took Finn a second to get it pressed down. “I'm good.” He breathed some more, filling his chest all the way out. The straps were well-padded, but snug. “You gonna be able to hear me when we're out there?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

“You ready to get moving?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Finn said, and heard Poe laugh.

The acceleration was brutal, but once they broke atmo Finn found his hands and feet floating up, loose. There were things on the floor like slippers, and on the seat like mitts; the feet ones felt okay but the hand ones were too much. He bunched his shoulder muscles and sat tight.

They were bound for the next system over, where scouts had provided conflicting reports of First Order activity. Bribery was a possibility, and so was honest error, but establishing a presence in that sector would help the Order control trade there and drive a wedge between allies. The space between the system's habitable planets was spangled with asteroid clouds and resulting gravitational anomalies, so in a lot of ways Poe _was_ the man for the job. Finn was there mainly because the orders for this mission had come through between their last one and their next one, supposing they survived to do it.

“How're those files?” Poe called to him.

The datapad was tucked in the wall webbing, but: “You want me to read them out loud to you?”

“Maybe just the sexy parts—shit,” and their ship swerved violently, sending Finn's hands flailing and his stomach lurching into the curve.

A few more swoops and a silence that started to get ominous before he heard Poe's voice again: “So the good news is we answered the question we came here to answer.”

Finn fumbled for the button, feeling sick, wishing for a viewport. “How many?”

“Three TIEs I can see, but this dust cloud is—hold on back there,” and they dove again, and Finn felt the ship tremble around him as the rear torpedoes fired and fired. “One down,” Poe said with vicious satisfaction, “we got this, I got you, don't worry,” and then the intercom cut out.

Finn couldn't see, and he couldn't hear. To keep from losing it with helplessness and frustration, he thought about how beautiful it always was to watch Poe fly, tried to convert the motions he was feeling to what they'd look like in the sky above him or on a visual array. The void has no up or down, but Finn's guts translated the quick cut, the pivot, the dive and the joyous sweep out.

Finn wanted to thumb the intercom button and say _You,_ say _You're the one who showed me this,_ in case he wouldn't get another chance, but he didn't want to distract Poe from the precision and velocity and fury and joy that was keeping them alive.

He also sort of wanted to pass out, especially when Poe took them into a sharp loop that sure as hell _felt_ like turning upside down. No sound in space. If another of the TIEs exploded, he wouldn't hear it. If they were hit, he might have time to feel it.

And then he heard Poe's voice, metallic, crackling, saying, “Clear!” as he swung them out into a final curve of pure relief.

After that, there were a few impressions that didn't seem to be in any order, Poe crouching in front of him and looking at him, Poe coming back through the hatch, a cessation of motion, Finn's pulse behind his eyes, Poe gently unbuckling the helmet—not a helmet—safety strap across his forehead. Kissing his forehead. Kissing his mouth, urgently and deeply.

The kisses slowly settled Finn back into his body, sweaty, panting, dizzy, and—he realized as the other sensations ebbed—half-hard. Realized that Poe had pulled back and was looking him up and down, concern and tenderness sliding into appraisal. Was saying, “How you feel about staying like that for a minute?” and sinking to his knees.

“Feel alright about it.”

“Even the--” Poe gestured at the rest of the harness, with the hand that wasn't already rubbing Finn's thigh.

“Sure, I trust you,” and he'd meant it to be light, meant it like usual, but Poe's face looked strained. “I know,” he said, “I'm sorry you had to, I should've--”

“You have to bring your face back over here,” Finn said. “I can't reach it unless I undo these, and you said you wanted me to stay like this.”

That was the right tone, the one he'd been going for, and it worked more or less the way he wanted it to, bringing Poe half into his lap to kiss him again. Finn shifted under him, trying to settle Poe and also to rub against him.

“I can take a hint,” Poe said, sliding down to the floor again.

“That wasn't the hint.”

“Oh.” Poe looked up at him through those lashes. “So you _don't_ want me to blow you until you're incoherent to celebrate our narrow escape, is what I'm getting from this. I must've gotten a wire crossed somewhere.”

Finn laughed, all the stresses and dangers just fraying and popping and collapsing. No need to hang on tight. “Do what you want,” he said. “I mean that.”

“We don't have time to do everything I want,” Poe said, undoing Finn's fly, stroking him slowly, smiling at whatever face he was making. “We're supposed to be at the rendezvous point in two days. Do my best, though.” He crouched lower, kissed the side of Finn's shaft just once, and swallowed him down.

Finn had sort of expected Poe to mess around more—the phrase “captive audience” might or might not have floated through his mind—but this was deep and slick and immediate, so intense that he tried to thrust into it further, and was checked by the padded straps. Poe picked up on the motion, though, and looked up—lips still sealed around Finn's cock—and raised an eyebrow just a fraction as if to say, _Now you get it._ Then he let his eyes slip closed again and sank back down.

So Finn let himself be held, surrounded, let himself sigh and swear at the light scrape of Poe's teeth, laugh again at the glugging sound when Poe got the angle a little bit wrong and the vibration of Poe's laugh too as he pulled back a little to recalibrate. Gasped in turn when Poe took him in too deep for breath. Shouted out loud when he came, heaving against the straps that held him in place, subsiding as Poe's head came to rest on his thigh.

Finn remembered, then, that his hands had been free the whole time. He cupped Poe's jaw, traced his slightly swollen lower lip. “Your turn?”

“Yeah.” Poe sounded a little dazed, too. “In a second.”

With his other hand and what remained of his coordination, Finn unsnapped the harness clasps, half-slithered and half-lurched down to the floor of the ship and resettled Poe in his arms. “Whenever,” he said into Poe's hair, reaching down to touch him, get him back up to speed. “Anytime.”

 

 


End file.
